After Reading Leonard Cohen’s “The Change” by Julie Mahfood

We sent shame on a ride into itself.
Sent shame into the prairies

in a covered wagon, unfolded it
like an old blanket and lay down.

We rested on it, regarded ourselves
from a perch high above, where prairies

were a brown-green sea made
by fairies stringing thread.

We nested with shame, petted it,
caressed and put it to bed for the night.

Slept, but our sleep was fitful.
Woke with shame in our hair.

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